Monday, February 8, 2010

First Sunday Off

I was looking forward to my first official Sunday off for weeks. It would be the first time in years that I had been employed and not had to work on a Sunday. Usually, I only had Sundays off when I was on vacation, or when there was a snow day. (I can't tell you how stressful snow days are, when I am the one having to call them!)

A day off is the day when you don't have to work. Sabbath is the day when you gain spiritual renewal, when your soul is fed. Day off is what I have when I spend the day doing my laundry. Sabbath is what I used to get when I'd spend the day in the National Cathedral visiting the Resurrection Chapel or strolling through the National Gallery for the umpteenth time.

Sabbath in Puritan, Frozen-Wasteland Connecticut doesn't look quite like that. See, normally on a Sabbath day, I'd include a lazy brunch followed by some brain-expanding cultural event like a museum. Say, brunch and the Wadsworth Atheneum sounded like a good idea.

We *were* going to start out at Cheesecake Factory... but we were promptly kicked out because they weren't open yet. So we went for a cup of coffee and kicked our heels for half an hour. Seems they open stuff late in CT because you are supposed to go to church.

Returning at 10, we were seated, and I ordered a Bloody Mary. Which they could not serve due to the stupid CT blues laws, which state you can't have any alcohol before 11. Dumb state, trying to tell me when I can be irresponsible. M pointed out that in the South, there are no such compunctions. Indeed, if the liquor police were strolling down the street, they'd be checking to *confirm* the alcohol content in your breakfast drink. Not here, in Puritan Land.

After brunch, I ran a few errands, because my mother lives in the wilds of Tolland and she doesn't just drive down. She makes an epic trek, involving four-wheel drive and coyotes and steep hills and fast-paced traffic danger. As I waited in line, my phone rang. Expecting my mother to call so we could go to the museum, instead it was work. A disaster, quite naturally. (Is the entire universe against me?) And just like that, I was waiting to find out if I'd get called in.

Which I did, an hour later. A few hours of chaplain-derring-do, and I had things under control. By that, I mean I was successfully able to dump the workload back onto the (very nice) duty chaplain. And skedaddle. But no free museum for me.

I was able to finally get my bad-girl beverage at my brother's house where his wife had an epic service of munchies. We sat around, ate too much (but it was healthy, so all good!), and watched us some Super Bowl. There were some real stinker ads, and nothing that has yet surpassed my favorite- the dalmation training the Clydesdale.

It was certainly a Sunday, but it was definitely not Sabbath. What do you do, and how does a spiritual professional recover when their designated Sabbath day was taken away?

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